


Not So Scary Really

by BlackWingBecci



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caretaking, Halloween, Illnesses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWingBecci/pseuds/BlackWingBecci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras probably should have just not gone to the Halloween party. But he went anyway, and with the flu and the craziness of Halloween sometimes reality isn't always that easy to make sense of. But it works out okay when you've got someone there to take care of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Scary Really

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psifiend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psifiend/gifts).



Enjolras probably should have just not gone to the Halloween party. 

He was hot, but cold, and his head was full of cotton wool. There was pain stinging behind his eyes and his limbs were heavy and uncooperative. He was still insisting it was just a cold though, but no one really believed him. Enjolras could tell by the looks Combeferre gave him and the worry on Joly’s face and how awfully careful Courfeyrac was being around him. Yet none of them really said anything, and none of them really insisted he stayed home, so Enjolras ended up at the party anyway.

He shouldn’t have gone. But he forced himself out of the comfy cocoon that was his bed covers and into a half-arsed costume that consisted of the darkest clothes he owned and out of the house. Enjolras didn’t want to disappoint Feuilly and Bahorel who were hosting; the two had been planning this party for weeks and had not stopped going on about it and how they wanted everyone there. And it had been at least two weeks before Enjolras had a chance to properly see all his friends together. He hadn’t talked to them or had fun with or seen them all enjoying each other’s company for so long and he really missed it. He wasn’t going to miss this chance.

He curled up on the sofa as soon as he got there, mainly watching his friends have a good time but not participating himself. He didn’t trust himself to stand for too long, and he was sure his voice would be no more than a raspy whisper if he actually tried to speak, and he didn’t want to worry them. They should be having a good time, not worrying about him and running around after him. So he was happy to sit there, even though his head was a mess and his whole body ached, and sip his glass of water, even though his throat felt like sandpaper every time he swallowed.

Yeah, he definitely should not have gone to the party. But he was there.

The strong pain killers and flu tablets he had taken were messing with his head – a reason why he usually hated taking medication, but a necessity to get him out of the house. And coupled with the mess his head was anyway from the illness made him dizzy and woozy and he wasn’t a hundred percent sure what was happening around him. All the brightly coloured Halloween decorations were blurring together at the edge of his visions and everything seemed to have a fuzzy haze over it. His friends voices were hazy in his ears – as though he was listening from under water – and it all made his head heavy and his mind slip.

He was up and off the couch before his mid could catch up. He dragged himself towards the bathroom, his legs feeling like lead and his hands shaking even as he grabbed his scarf tightly with them. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw up or just let the cool air of the bathroom calm him, but he knew the bathroom was where he was going.  
He stumbled into the hallway, leaning heavily against the wall for support. He had spent an awful lot of time at Bahorel and Feuilly’s place over the years, so he knew the bathroom was only just down the hall, but the hall seemed to stretch n forever as he stumbled down it. And as he looked forward to the door, it warped in his gaze, stretching away from him, growing bigger. Taunting him.

He lifted a shaking hand to rub at his eyes. His scarf fell to the floor but that barely registered in his mind. He just had to make it to the bathroom. That was all he had to do. But his limbs weren’t really doing what he wanted and his eyes were watering and his head felt so full it could just float right off his shoulders.

Then the bathroom door swung open and light shone out, silhouetting the thick, hairy creature that tumbled through the doorway. Its nails dug into the door frame and it raised its head to look at Enjolras with too green eyes and sharp teeth protruding from its mouth.

A yell tore its way from Enjolras’ aching throat as the werewolf noticed him and began advancing and Enjolras threw him backwards to escape the beast. His vision was still hazy and he could barely hear a thing beyond his ow racing heart beat but the werewolf was still coming for him and he tried desperately to make his sore limbs work the way he wanted them to. But the beast had reached him before he had even managed to stagger more than a step backwards and its hairy hands reached out for him and-

“Ange?” Enjolras blinked. The nickname had come out a little garbled, but he had understood it and the voice that spoke it was familiar. He blinked again and raised his shaking hand to wipe at his watering eyes at the same time as the werewolf raised a hand and pulled out the fake fangs in its mouth. “Enjolras?”

Grantaire. Grantaire was frowning at him through his scruffy beard and pulling off his fake werewolf gloves so he could encircle Enjolras with his strong, thick arms. (Which was helpful since Enjolras’ legs weren’t going to last much longer at keeping him upright.) Enjolras remembered now Grantaire talking about how great his werewolf costume was going to be. How well it would work with his beard and messy hair and size.

“Hey, Ange, are you alright?” Grantaire asked gently, lifting his hand and brushing a lock of hair from Enjolras’ sweaty face so gently that it made Enjolras’ chest ache for a reason that had nothing to do with his illness. Grantaire’s frown deepened when he brushed against Enjolras’ skin though, and a moment later his hand was up and pressed against his forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.” Enjolras tried to protest. His voice was rough and he ended whining more than anything. “It’s just a cold.”

Grantaire did not look impressed. “Yeah, and come the next full moon I’m going to actually turn into a werewolf, and Bossuet will wear a tutu and become a pixie and we’ll go frolicking in a meadow while Joly rides down the river using his wheelchair as a boat and his walking stick as a paddle, and-“

Dry, racking coughs from Enjolras interrupted Grantaire’s long tirade and he leant heavily into Grantaire’s side when he was finished. He was exhausted and everything ached too much really. Things were still hazy, he still felt woozy, but with Grantaire there talking to him he was more grounded. He could tell what reality was and what wasn’t. He still shouldn’t have come to the party though.

“Okay, I’m taking you home.” Grantaire bent to pick up the gloves he had dropped on the ground and then started herding Enjolras back down the hallway and to the living room. Enjolras protested. Of course he did. Grantaire should be able to enjoy the party, he shouldn’t have to be looking after Enjolras just because he was ill. And there was a reason he had been heading to the bathroom. Though for the life of him, Enjolras had no idea what that reason was.

“You should stay and enjoy the party. I’ll be fine. Stay and have fun.”

“It’s just a party. There’ll be plenty more, and right now you’re more important.” Grantaire said with complete surety, and that was that, because the next second they were back in the living room. 

Enjolras was bundled into his coat by Combeferre, who gave him a stern look, but told him to feel better gently. And Grantaire re-joined him only moments after leaving his side with his own coat and Joly trailing behind him with advice on how to look after Enjolras tripping off his tongue. Grantaire brushed him off with a laugh and then wrapped an arm around Enjolras’ waist and ushered him out the door and into Grantaire’s car.

Grantaire didn’t say much as they drove home, just humming along quietly the low radio, and Enjolras let it wash over him as he leant back into the comfortable seat. He was unsure about Grantaire taking him home more than he would be about anyone else. Enjolras couldn’t help it. The growing thing between them was still so tentative, so vulnerable. They had only just begun calling their walks through the city and meet-ups for coffee dates. It needed to be nurtured and protected, not thrown into the open and stomped all over and Enjolras just didn’t know if he had it in him to be as gentle as he had to be.

They were musings for a time when he wasn’t ill though. For a time when his head wasn’t fuzzy and beginning to spike with pain, and when he could imagine doing more than just curling up in bed and sleeping until he felt like a human being again.

Soon they were pulling up beside his place and Grantaire was helping him out the car and into his own apartment. If Enjolras had it his own way, he would collapse on the couch in the living room and be done with it. Set up camp there to wait out the illness. But he was way too weak and sleepy to demand his own way, and so he had make the extra trek all the way to his bedroom with Grantaire directing him. And in the end it seemed kind of worth it though with Grantaire helping him strip to his t-shirt and boxers and then tucking him in bed.

Enjolras dozed straight away, blinking slowly until minutes were passing between his eyes closing and then opening again. Grantaire came back into his room eventually – Enjolras hadn’t really noticed him leave – and corralled him into sitting up a bit so he could drink a glass of water. And then Enjolras rolled over and went straight back to dozing, eventually able to move past the pain and the ache and fall asleep.

He was in the hallway again. It was long, stretching beyond his line of sight both ahead and behind him. He couldn’t see where he began, he couldn’t see where he was going to end. He staggered forward, not knowing what else to do, but his legs were shaking and his body felt heavy. There was growling from ahead of him, but he had no option than to keep moving forward towards it. The growling grew louder, and the large, hairy figure emerged from the shadows. Its teeth were bared and dripping blood and its green eyes were shining with an unnatural intensity that terrified Enjolras. The creature growled again, it drew back and scraped its claws along the ground leaving deep marks in the wood, and then it sprang forward and pounced at Enjolras.

Enjolras awoke with a gasp and struggled into a sitting position. The sudden movement left him reeling. When he got a hold of his senses again, he realised there was now daylight streaming in from the window. His head was still aching, the pain starting from the back of his skull and feeling as though it was spreading through every nerve in his brain, but his mind wasn’t fuzzy or hazy anymore. His throat was dryer than it had been for weeks and he was sure he wouldn’t be able to speak and he was shaking all over, but he didn’t feel overwhelmingly hot and his throat was aching as much as it had been before.

He somehow made it out of bed and to the bathroom, where he relieved himself and took some gulps of water from the tap. The cold water on his dry throat was like heaven, and he would have stayed drinking the water all day if his arms and legs didn’t ache so badly. But they did, so he reluctantly left the tap and the bathroom and made his way back to bed. 

Grantaire was there waiting for him when he returned, sat up against the headboard and flipping through a magazine. Enjolras was surprised he was still there, surprised he had stuck around for so long when he didn’t have to and Enjolras was disgustingly ill. But he couldn’t make himself express any of that surprise when he still felt so awful, so instead he just collapsed back onto the bed beside Grantaire and let the other man tuck him in again and hand him another glass of water.

“Thank you.” He mumbled quietly when he had finished the water and was half hiding under the duvet. “For taking care of me.”

“Anytime.” Grantaire said gently, and threaded his fingers through Enjolras’ hair to scratch lightly at his scalp. A few months ago – hell, maybe even just a few weeks ago – the commitment and seriousness that one word entailed would have terrified Enjolras. But now, with his mind still a little loopy from the flu and realising how much he really liked Grantaire, ‘anytime’ didn't seem that scary really.


End file.
